When we went zip lining in Hawaii, there were two other moms besides me on the excursion. One mom seemed super adventurous….she was talking about all the other places she’d been zip lining, all the places they’d been hiking, rock climbing, and so on. I looked at her in awe. I am not that adventurous. The other mom was nervous as heck. Afraid of heights, not fond of the helmet messing up her hair, not a fan of the bug spray and sunscreen we all had to put on. She was super nice, just not athletic, not any kind of adventurer.
We were about halfway through our excursion of 8 zip lines. The less-adventurous mom and I were talking, cheering Little Man, as well as her terrified-of-heights teenage daughter. She turned to me and said, “Well, you’re sporty, this should be easy.” I couldn’t help myself from laughing out loud. You see, I’m much closer to her than to the other mom in the group. I don’t know I’d ever consider myself “sporty”. I don’t like to get dirty. I tolerate the sweat when I’m running, but I’m not a big fan. I love to watch sports, but I’m not really one to get involved in playing any of the games. I’m terrified of any baseball, softball, soccer ball, basketball, or football flying at my head.
I’m an admitted princess, a priss if you will. That’s just who I am. Or am I? Someone called me sporty. I can hold my own on long runs. I can hike good distances (if it isn’t raining or snowing). I make an attempt to ski, even if it is just on the bunny hill. I’ll go camping (in an RV), have hiked through a stream/shallow river, and have even gone cave-tubing. Heck, I guess if I can go 16 days without getting out of a hospital bed (and all that entails) maybe I’ve earned the right to be called sporty.
Either way, her comment made me giggle. I would normally consider myself the least sporty person I know. But maybe, just maybe, I may qualify.